


The Trial in the Cellars

by LadyGaGalion



Series: The Dorwinion Wine Debacle [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGaGalion/pseuds/LadyGaGalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his return from Erebor, Thranduil goes down to the cellars to see if his naughty butler has been following his advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trial in the Cellars

Not an entire day has passed since the king's return from Erebor when he appears in the cellars with a simple command: "Leave."

His presence in these parts of the halls is most unusual; the order to leave is perplexing, to say the least. There are only a few others here helping me prepare the wines to be served at the feast, and they scurry away with bowed heads. I was not told to stay, so I too begin to follow them out, but he blocks my path. 

"Not you, Galion." 

I attempt to remain calm, but inside my chest my heart is leaping—mostly out of excitement, but partially out of apprehension. I've tried to be good while he was away—for I have not forgotten his suggestion that I might find myself rewarded for excellent service—but that doesn't mean he has not found some reason to be angry with me. 

"What is it, my lord?" 

There is something odd about the way he is looking at me. When he arrived at the Gate yesterday, I could see even from afar that his face was drawn with grief and the pain of loss. Now there is a spark of joy and mischief.

"I thought I would come here and make sure you were behaving yourself," he says, looking me up and down. "It would not do if the wrong wines were served at the feast because my drunken butler is running amok in the cellars."

I cannot help but laugh. "No, it would not. But I haven't had anything to drink yet." At his raised brow, I add, "And I will not until my work is finished. Even then it will only be the wine that is intended for servants."

He takes a few steps closer, until I can feel his body heat through his robes. "How can I be sure?" He's looking at me with genuine curiosity, as if he expects me to offer an easy solution. "How might I know for certain you did not have a goblet of my finest shortly before I came down here?"

It's hard to think with his face so close to mine. "I do not know..."

"No?" He smirks, and I manage only to stare at his mouth as he closes the distance between us. 

His lips feel feathery soft as they brush mine; it is all I can do not to moan as he prods my mouth open (and the only reason any prodding is required is because I want the moment to last longer so that I can burn it into my memory). He cradles the back of my head as his tongue delves into my mouth. This time I do make some sort of embarrassing sound, but it cannot be helped.

I wrap my arms around him and dig my fingers into his shoulders as his tongue slides against mine, slow yet demanding. My senses are overwhelmed. He tastes of honey and smells subtly of the forest he holds so dear. His body is hard as iron, yet soft as silk. I cannot get enough, and no sooner do I think this than he starts to pull away. 

"It would appear you were telling the truth." He grins widely. "But I would like to investigate further, just to be sure."

Before I realize what's happening he pins me up against the wall, one leg hooked around his hip. He moves the collar of my tunic out of the way and dips in to kiss and nip at my collarbone. I let my head fall back as his hot mouth moves slowly up my neck, leaving behind a wet trail that makes me shiver when the cool air touches my skin. The fluttering and twisting in my belly is almost unbearable, and it only gets worse when I glance down to make sure that this is real, that it is indeed his blond head against my throat. I bury a hand in his hair, wanting to press him closer even though he is as close as he can be. Fuck, even his cock is digging into my hip through our clothes.

"Thranduil…" 

He starts kissing along my jawline, and I drop my head back down to kiss him again. His lips part at first, but then he hesitates. I wait for a moment and lean in. He pulls back.

He swallows and shakes his head ever-so-slightly, all former traces of gladness gone. "I cannot do this." 

"Why?" Trying to ignore the sudden weight in my stomach, I drag my fingertips along the length of his arousal. I cannot count the number of time I touched his father like this, pretending it was him, but now I am dizzy with the realization that this is the real thing. His mouth drops open again as I stroke him through his breeches, and his warm breath tickles my face. "Everything seems to be in working order."

I hope the teasing will help evaporate whatever dark mood has suddenly fallen over him. But he covers my hand with his own in a firm grip and, with his lips pressed into a thin line, moves it away. "I can't."

I grit my teeth. _Why not_? I want to ask again, but that would be overstepping my boundaries— and besides, I am sure I already know. It's not entirely unheard of for an elf lord to take a commoner as a lover, but as far as I'm aware the king has never done so. He must find the idea too repulsive to move past.

"It is not what you think," he says in a voice barely above whisper. But amongst the myriad emotions in his eyes I see a hint of something akin to contempt, and it does nothing to reassure me. He releases my leg and steps away, then waves a hand in the vague direction of some wine racks. "You may have whatever wine you like tonight, after you are done here."

He gives me one last conflicted glance before turning on his heel and storming off. 

As I watch his retreating back, I can honestly say I couldn't care less what kind of wine I am going to drink tonight.

  



End file.
